


tell me how this love will ruin us

by Incertus (orphan_account)



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: But also, Confessions, First Time, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Kissing, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:25:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Incertus
Summary: “Remember those words, when you are aimlessly venturing in useless fights,” he whispers between them and the sentence contrasts with the emotion rolling over the vowels and enveloping consonants. Thor feels both chastised and loved.“Remember I am the only one who can ruin you.” He makes an odd pause, as if asking himself if he should continue. “And you are the only one who can ruin me.”





	tell me how this love will ruin us

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is the first thor/loki fic i decided to post on this site. this is how i see their relationship and, in case your opinion doesn't match with mine, you're free to go.
> 
> to those who stay, see you at the end and don't hesitate to leave an opinion to these 3.3k words of pure smut. enjoy!

_**“Behind the hatred, there lies a murderous desire for love”** _

*

Loki can perhaps trace the fine line that silently stays between wisdom and recklessness with the thumb of his finger. He can grasp it, but it still remains unseen to others. All he needs to do is plaster a troubled, innocent expression, to upper the mask made of unbreakable glass over his face and wonder, in a trembling voice, “Brother, what have you done?”

Quick steps, hands reaching for steadiness and fingers stretched to aid, to heal the broken and calloused skin bleeding not only red, but also pain, on the tiled floors. Thor’s eyes are squeezed, mouth pressed into a thin line and Loki wants to laugh, wants to chastise him for not listening to his advice, for being a prisoner to his own silly desires. So he does it.

“If only you would have paid attention to what I said, just this once…” He grabs Thor’s left hand – which is wearing a very ugly, unsightly wound – and is careful not to touch it, quietly admiring the deep cuts and crevices in form of poisonous arbors adorning his sun kissed skin. 

To Loki’s rarely achieved surprise, it doesn’t cease and continues the way up to his shoulder and even to his broad neck, his abdomen wearing similar but more profound slashes. His lips part slightly before Loki can keep them glued and, fortunately, it adds to the heavy atmosphere lingering between them.

“I have made a great fallacy, brother,” Thor confesses, raggedly breathing and dropping Mjölnir on the ground at their feet. An almost insignificant shock travels through Loki and rattles his bones, unsteadies him for a brief second until he can regain control over his body.

“That I can see, you big oaf,” Loki says with affection, a string of uneasiness making his fingers ache with restrained prowess. Thor is fixing him with eyes as blue as the Asgardian sky, but they constrain the peril of a thunderstorm. It’s a tumult of emotions flaring too quickly for Loki to catch them. “You’re pale.” A conclusion, made probably too late.

It makes Thor’s irises much more vibrant and intensifies Loki’s worries. He only has the audacity to smile before his knees are falling exactly as buildings have been destroyed under his wrath. Loki barely has time to extend his arms and prepare himself for the weight of the God of Thunder collapsing with his defenses demolished in his delusive hands.

*

When Thor comes to his senses, the pain is forgotten and left in a hidden corner of his past to never be dealt with again. He doesn’t move at first, using the time he has cradled in his hands to his advantage and stealing a look at the large windows to his left. It’s evening. The sun’s already died a painless death and is buried in puffy clouds, red stains painting the sky.

“You’re awake,” a voice mutters in relief and a warm, soft palm covers his. His mother, Frigga, is smiling tenderly at him from beside his bed. “You have scared all of us, Thor,” she says in a quivering voice, barely taming the tears waiting to fall on her cheeks.

He wants to excuse himself badly, but his voice isn’t too keen on being used, so all he can do is lower his eyes and pray that his cheeks aren’t set aflame with redness. He sees white towels drenched in cold water sitting on the bed and a few of them are drowned in blood.

He notices then, that his mother hasn’t come alone and Loki stays behind her, hands folded in front of himself, unreadable in his openness and crafted from sharp edges in which light gets caught. He’s still bearing the burden of his green costume.

“Brother!” Thor exclaims as he uses whatever strength he can muster to lift himself from the bed and regrets it one moment later when a wave of dizziness washes over him. Frigga puts her palms on his shoulders and forces him to stand down again. “You have decided to stay,” Thor mutters, more to himself than to them, in something akin to admiration and relief, as if Loki’s depart should’ve been normal.

“Do not overexert yourself, Thor,” Loki advises in a steady voice and his mere presence, the simplicity of him being _there_ is enough to rise a redness in Thor’s cheeks. His hands are fumbling, desperately searching for a touch so forbidden in its integrity it has become common.

When he turns his torso, Thor realizes he’s not struck with any pain or suffering and wonders, inevitably, how is it possible to feel renewed, left with nothing besides residual scars from the fight.

“Your brother and I have healed the wounds. You were bleeding so much, Thor,” Frigga says as if reading his thoughts and her honest eyes are clouded with gloom. “We thought that… for a moment, we would lose you.” 

“I am truly sorry for my actions,” Thor tells them both, though he knows the words are just a well-crafted illusion that will cover his wrongness. “And for making you feel this anguish.”

Frigga smiles and so defeats the tears glistening in her eyes, but Loki’s face remains impassive in the dim light, making Thor’s nerves get stuck in his throat in a tasteless boulder. Their mother rises, after kissing him once with endless affection and leaves them alone in a disturbing silence, which makes embarrassment infinitely more stinging. 

“Loki,” Thor begins the thread of syllables and finds it deceiving, lacking ideas and continuity. He has no more left to confess to Loki, though he knows he can gather something, anything, if only he has the courage to go looking for it instead of turning around in indifference. 

He notices then, when Loki takes a step forward, how pale he is, skin glowing with beads of sweat, the lack of color enveloping him in a lifeless aspect. His mouth is set in a thin line, palms chafing soundlessly, slowly and he moves his head to the side, smiles slightly and bites his lip to sustain a laugh.

Thor is confused, is trying to point what might’ve instigated such a reaction from him. 

“You’re an idiot – a big, muscly, idiot who doesn’t think twice before surging in hazard’s way!” Loki shouts, moving quickly towards Thor’s bed. He gazes at Thor from above, through his lashes, angered and powerful, just like a king would.

Thor cannot keep himself from grabbing his cold hand, feeling long fingers, and bringing them to his lips carefully, tenderly, in a manner only a lover should. Loki seems to snap in half, for he casts the touch before squeezing Thor’s chin in a deathly grip and standing inches away from him. The ragged breaths between them are from Thor, since Loki is as calm and concise as ever.

“Never attempt such an absurdity,” he murmurs in a low voice, green eyes moving between Thor’s lips and his irises. He’s not talking about the gesture. “Never again.” They are seconds away from meeting in a kiss Thor seeks with his whole being and which will free him from the burden of becoming a prisoner to his emotions.

“Promise me,” Loki orders and Thor wants to whine, to beg him to continue what he’s begun. “Promise you will think twice before going hunting in foreign places.” It’s evident even though he doesn’t voice it: Thor can only dream of kissing him if he doesn’t say it. So he does, in a hurry that has the words stumbling into each other. 

“I do. I do. I promise. Loki, please,” he repeats and brings his hand to Loki’s impeccable cheek to cure some of his hunger.

The thought of never being able to hold Loki in his arms like this, to feel him breathing and chuckling and joking makes Thor’s chest tighten. He remembers falling into his arms not long ago (or so he guesses), prepared to die knowing he’s seen Loki one last time, has stared into the galaxies hiding in his eyes as long as he could. Dying isn’t so repulsive if Loki is with him.

Thor sighs, as if freezing water has been placed on burn marks, and, placing his hand on the back of Loki’s head, he directs his mouth to his with precise movements. They meet in a battle for glory with lips and tongues gliding together. Roughly tasted at first, the kiss evolves in leisurely motions moments later. Loki doesn’t protest Thor’s guidance and sits on his lap, careful to remain at a remarkable distance. 

“You need not stay away anymore, brother,” Thor admits and envelops Loki’s hips in his hands, dragging him to his chest and counting his desperate breaths. Delighted that he’s not the only one reflecting emotions, he buries his nose in Loki’s neck and inhales deeply. “Your smell…” He continues to his right ear, placing a small kiss on the skin he meets. “Your reactions…” Loki exhales shakily and makes more room for Thor by tilting his head back. “Everything you do and all you are take every ounce of sanity from me. Is this what you wish for, brother?”

Thor didn’t expect letting his thoughts flow so easily, nor did he think Loki would swallow thickly before viciously licking his lip.

“What if I said it was?” Loki holds his gaze flintily and smirks lavishly. “Would you still kiss me as if we died the following hour?”

“You know I would,” Thor voices and does so again and again, without seeming willing to put an end to it. “Be mine for this night,” he says without hesitation, without doubt.

“You’re an absolute fool if you thought I’d ever be someone else’s,” Loki says and bits of affection slip into his voice. Thor squeezes his huge arms around his middle, breathing and waiting for the elation travelling through his veins to pass. “Kiss me.” 

It’s a demand; one Thor has no objection in defying. He does as he’s told, until saliva is dripping down Loki’s chin, lips red and elastic between Thor’s teeth. “You’re disgusting,” he hears in a lust-filled tone, followed by a low chuckle.

Unable to contain his smile, Thor says: “You love me.” He doesn’t consider the consequences, but is afraid the little confession will drive Loki away from him. To his surprise and utter relief, it doesn’t – it just causes his breath to still for a few seconds while Thor’s thumb is caressing his cheek. 

“I still question myself if I do.” It’s raw, sincere and odd in its truth. Thor has once accused Loki of being ‘incapable of sincerity’, but it proves to have been misjudged.

“I know you do,” Thor whispers and catches his brother’s lips in a long kiss. He will make him see how inseparable they are. Tugging at Loki’s garments, he says, “Would you mind having fewer layers between us?”

He’s dying for a direct contact and beams when Loki snaps his fingers, which leaves him freed from the grasps of heavy clothing, burning skin available for Thor to coddle. He wets the two nipples with his tongue, while moving his palms to Loki’s back and admiring the mastery displayed in front of him.

The Trickster bites his lip enough for it to bleed and Thor, mesmerized by the idea, leaves his current activity for a moment to lick the trail in one long swipe. He thinks he hears Loki curse quietly and realizes then, strikingly late, how hard his brother’s member is pressing against him. The Thunderer lowers his hand, agonizingly slow, and cups it.

Loki exhales, shaken by the touch, dropping his head to Thor’s shoulder and letting slip past his lips a quiet moan his brother devours. Thor wants to hear it again and again, like a mantra, like some prize dutifully earned and uses the unoccupied hand to cup one buttock. 

“No, no, enough,” Loki says and pushes Thor until his back hits the pillows. It’s as if blood freezes in his veins at the gesture and perhaps his smile fades in favor of confusion, for Loki sighs and explains further. “You must be exhausted. Let me do the work tonight, brother.” 

And oh, of all the things going through Thor’s head – fears and desires combined – he didn’t even think he’d hear such words.

“As you wish,” he says, breathless, and arranges himself as if he were looking at a theatre piece his brother loves so much following. 

“Part your lips,” Thor is told and does so without questions about why, charmed by Loki’s eyes and small smile. Two fingers slip into the heat of his mouth and press against his tongue. Coated in liquid, they travel down Loki’s personal space seconds later.

Thor cannot look elsewhere but on the figure he’s considered brother on many occasions in life, though their connection has bordered on familiar and forbidden too long to be labeled. He wanted to pull Loki in a tight hug, but kiss him after. He wanted to have his wounds tended, but not by healers’ magical hands.

He wants everything Loki has to offer and at the moment, he’s giving over all he has, or so Thor thinks. Cupping his cheek, the Thunderer lowers his finger on Loki’s pulse and listens through his touch to the velocity of it, the effect he has on him and bathes in elation.

“Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, but his tone carries an order, not an advice. 

Loki narrows his eyes, though he follows the command and lets his mouth drop open slowly as he does so. The pleasure isn’t overwhelming at first, felt not even as one, but as a slight pain. The discomfort is slowly decreasing until it gets replaced by a ravenous hunger to feel _more_ , to be more and Thor can exactly point the moment when the border is passed.

He’s even been unaware of his neglected member, but seeing Loki so coyly stubborn made a jubilant feeling rise within him. If the process of preparing his brother was efficient with nothing but spit-coated fingers, he’s aware the need of ointment is stronger now.

Loki seems to think the same, since he initiates another long kiss that ravishes Thor in ways he’s never expected, unprepared for the onslaught of desire. Then, with precise movements, uses his powers to get a bowl of oil. Slowly, he guides Thor’s hand to it, coating big fingers and calloused skin in it. It’s slippery and makes him shiver in anticipation.

“It’s time to shine, brother,” he says with a quaint smirk, putting the bowl aside and biting his bottom lip.

Thor is smoldering, prepared for destruction, desiring to grab Loki’s long, black hair and tip his head back again – this time with brute force, to steal his climax and function in tandem for one more moment. Before he can subside though, Loki speaks.

“Prepare yourself,” he says in a low voice, taking away the sheet covering Thor’s hard member and watching. 

Without waiting more, wasting precious time, Thor does as he is told and brings his hand to his cock, sliding it from the tip, down the shaft and to the base in a strong grasp, absurdly slow at first and incredibly quick at last. He moans, hears Loki curse quietly and feels his chest being pushed with force.

“Make me wait another second and I’ll kill you,” Loki mumbles, sitting on the Thunderer’s lap again. This time, they’re both sure of what they want happening between them, prepared and willing.

“I won’t.” As any other promise, Thor pushes slowly into heat, is enveloped by tightness, restraint and then hotness. He grunts, breathing deeply to keep his body under control. He’s beginning to lose the reins, mesmerized by Loki’s moan and the nails digging into his chest. “Be as loud as you want, Loki. Let me hear everything.”

As he’s telling his brother this, Loki seems more and more convinced to defile Thor and keep to himself the truth, the pleasant sensations travelling through him with the thrusts and traces left by Thor’s kisses, bites. He’s not victorious, fortunately. He cannot stay silent as Thor changes the angle minutely, arranging him and plummeting inside with purpose.

“Loki, Loki,” he chants, unable to be quiet. He knows he can go deeper, harder and faster, but as he’s always taught himself to keep in mind, he’s not the only one who needs to feel beyond ecstatic. 

Thor wants to free Loki of any possible pain, for he controls his actions. It seems to have been the wrong decision, since Loki grunts, grabbing his chin with force, anger vaporizing through his pores and catching fire between them. He makes Thor stare into green eyes, menacing and upset.

“Do not even attempt treating me like one of your mortals,” he seethes, fixing his brother with liquid rage pouring inside his irises. “I am not breakable, nor fragile. Treat me like your equal or else I swear to you, _brother_ ,” he continues, attaching a venomous emotion to the last word, “that I will leave.”

Needless to add, Thor is afraid for perhaps the second time in his life and, more than anything, he wishes Loki would feel on the verge of crying out in pleasure, unsure if release is redemption or sin. Thus, he grabs Loki’s tender hips and flips them around, so he is standing tall between his brother’s parted legs. He sees surprise and uncertainty interlace with lust and knows he’s made the decision most suitable to Loki.

“Then allow me to ravage you,” he murmurs in Loki’s ear, biting the lobe hardly, and enters him sans incredulity, victim to his own selfish dreams. 

It feels times more intimate in this new position, with their chests perfectly aligned, with Thor heavy between Loki’s spread thighs, hot skin bleeding desire. Loki brings his hands to Thor’s back, digging into muscles, buries his nose into the Thunderer’s broad neck, sucking and biting.

Somehow, this yielding of Thor’s, his eagerness to listen to Loki thoroughly make the Trickster content, for he finally lets moans escape past his lips, head thrown on the large pillow, neck bare and inviting. Thor kisses him again and again, in desperation, but also as calmly and elegantly as he needs. 

“If I am to ever die, it will be from your hands alone, Loki,” he confesses, reddened in embarrassment and awareness. “For you are my weakness and my strength alike.”

He closes his eyes, slows his motions, trying to commit to memory every detail, every hot, wet spot inside Loki he’ll not feel in any more private ways. On his cheeks, he senses cold palms, long fingers, lovingly cupping his face and bringing it to Loki’s, their foreheads touching in a sign of trust, noses brushing in proof of affection and lips sealing in a deep, rattling kiss.

“Remember those words, when you are aimlessly venturing in useless fights,” he whispers between them and the sentence contrasts with the emotion rolling over the vowels and enveloping consonants. Thor feels both chastised and loved. “Remember I am the only one who can ruin you.” He makes an odd pause, as if asking himself if he should continue. “And you are the only one who can ruin me.”

“Loki,” Thor says without missing a beat, sealing their bond with completion, a guttural moan echoing in the room and, aware that Loki’s seconds away from finishing himself, he keeps kissing him with all he has to offer, touches him as much as he can, widely and unrestrained.

“Thor!” His brother half-screams, trembling from the force of the orgasm and, stripped of his energy, he lies carelessly on the white sheets. There’s a nice, unique contrast between the purity of the bed linens and Loki’s bruised, red skin.

The Trickster stretches his arms, arching his back and Thor curses every entity responsible for such beauty before smiling largely and resuming the kissing attacks.

“Would you mind trying this again, brother?”

**Author's Note:**

> the quote in the beginning belongs to tumblr only. i had to place this here because it describes their interactions perfectly. also, you can yell at me on [@mywoundsbleedwords](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mywoundsbleedwords).
> 
> title inspired slightly after a richard siken quote.


End file.
